


Found

by wilyasha



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Team as Family, spoilers for guardians of the galaxy 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8214758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilyasha/pseuds/wilyasha
Summary: “You don’t raise your children to be weapons at your disposal,” Gamora snarls. 
Proxima prickles under her words, but presses the barrel closer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There are spoilers for the second, upcoming movie. I'm too excited for it and I wanted to explore Gamora's relationship with Nebula. And I'm so serious on the headcanon that Proxima is one of the siblings of Gamora and Nebula. This can also be compatible with the comics.

Gamora moves the flat black stone across the square board, ignorant of Nebula’s watchful gaze. She pauses, her green index finger playing with the shiny surface before moving it back to its previous position. 

Nebula lets out a deep, long sigh. 

“Can you move already?” 

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Thinking about what?”

“What move to make... This is a strategy game,” says Gamora.

Nebula rolls her eyes, the sclera similar in shade with the iris and pupil. “No amount of strategizing will help you win, sister.” 

Gamora squints at the stones. Finally, she moves the same stone as before, but this time moves it three squares forward. Instantly, Nebula captures the piece with her white stone. 

Gamora lets out a groan. “Did you anticipate that?”

“Six moves ago,” Nebula says. “You raise your left brow when you think you have something. It’s easy to discern what it is from there…” 

Gamora licks her lips and plucks one of the black stones from the board. Sometimes Nebula sounds like the older out of the two of them.

“When did you get so good at this game?” Gamora asks, placing the stone back on the board before sweeping her hand. The stones clatter across the table as she scoops them up and places them in a silk drawstring bag. 

Leaning back in her chair, Nebula regards her sister. “Proxima helped me.”

Gamora’s hands still, one clutching the bag while the other clenches around a fistful of stones. 

“You were on that training mission with Korath, I believe,” Nebula smiles. “I had free time. She had free time.”

Gamora feels a trail of jealousy slither its way into her chest, balancing on her sternum. It’s hot and tight, as it climbs up her throat. Proxima’s one of the eldest children of their father, and she’s always keen on voicing her position of power within their family. 

Gamora jolts out of her thoughts when Nebula kicks her shin. Her hands tighten on the stones, as she realizes Nebula has been talking.

“Did you hear what I said?” Nebula asks, her head cocked to the side, her tongue slipped out to rest on her lower lip. 

Gamora furrows her brows. “No, sorry. What did you say?”

Her sister’s blue skin flushes fuchsia as she straightens up in her seat.

“She said your skin is the color of envy,” says a voice by the doorway. 

Gamora slowly turns to see Proxima standing there. Her blue hair is pulled away from her face and tied at the nape of her neck. Her eyes are white and brilliant against the cerulean shade of her skin. She’s wearing one of her worn flight suits, so she must have been running drills for most of the morning. Gamora realizes that although Proxima and Nebula are different species, the two look more like sisters. Gamora looks out of place among them. And even their father could--

Gamora deposits the stones in the bag and wills those thoughts away. 

-

Her training ends for the night with an uppercut to the chin and a kick to the jaw. There is blood pooling in her mouth, but nothing can compare to the shame she feels as her father stands off to the side. His face expressionless. Only his fists clench repeatedly before turning around to leave. 

“You left yourself open.”

“You’re better at offense.”

“You need to work on your defensive maneuvers.”

Gamora hears Korath rail on about her much needed improvements. 

“You’re usually not so easily distracted,” he says, moving closer to her to thump her shoulder with his large palm.

She winces briefly before schooling her features. 

“I’m just having an off day,” Gamora says, pursing her lips as she takes the lead into the communal changing rooms. 

“Father won’t care if you’re having an off day,” he says.

Gamora bites her tongue, keeping herself poised under the belittlement of her brother. She strips herself of her clothing, before heading to the showers to rinse off. She ignores her brother’s worried glances. 

-

Twelve years later, Nebula loses her left arm. 

-

She has nightmares nearly every night, even when she’s tucked in between Peter and Rocket, even when Drax brings her soothing herbal remedies, even when Groot turns on the music with the small remote Rocket designs for him. It doesn’t matter what they do. She still wakes up, terrorized by images of her sisters and brothers. Blood and the smell of plasma bombs as they helped their father destroy worlds and hunt down relics. 

Sometimes she dreams of the Asgardian prince, pale skin and green eyes, knife sharp grin gazing at her in the shadowy parts of a dreamscape. She feels guilt settle in her gut. She should have done more to stop her father, to stop the prince. She keeps the Terran invasion to herself, even though she wants to tell Peter. 

She wants to share a lot of things. She’ll tell them someday. Soon.

-

Gamora eats a bowl of spicy fungi noodles at their next port stop. It’s a hearty soup mixed with orange rootberries from the Centauri colonies and large bug meat imported from Knowhere’s seedier locales. But it still warms her belly and calms her better than any alcohol that Rocket shares. 

She’s on her third bowl when someone sits beside her, jostling her elbow forward and nearly knocking her glass of fruit juice down. She’s about to spit some retort out, when she stills, her hand clenching on her utensil. 

“Long time, no see,” Proxima says, a smirk on her face. Her eyes are just as white as Gamora remembers. “Sister.”

She’s not wearing her headdress and Gamora can only guess that Proxima is trying to blend in. Gamora moves to get up--

“Don’t,” Proxima growls. She holds a grey blaster under the table, the barrel pressed against Gamora’s thigh. Gamora thinks that she should have brought the guys or maybe their new teammate, Mantis. 

She should have brought Mantis. 

Gamora places the utensil back in the bowl and keeps her eyes on Proxima. 

“Imagine my surprise when I find you here, instead of Nebula,” her older sister says. “It’s time to go home, Gamora.” Her voice drops an octave. 

Gamora stills. 

“Sanctuary is not my home,” she says. “It’s not your home either. Thanos is using you. At least Nebula and I had the sense to see that.”

“Using me?” Proxima sneers.

“He wants the Infinity Stones,” she says. “He doesn’t care for our welfare.”

“You forget our childhood,” Proxima remarks. “You don’t remember how he raised us. You were too young. You are _still_ too young.” 

“You don’t raise your children to be weapons at your disposal,” Gamora snarls. 

Proxima prickles under her words, but presses the barrel closer. 

“You’re coming home with me, Gamora,” she says. “And after you’re safe, I’m coming back out here to get Nebu--”

The lights flicker off and screams erupt from the other patrons at the sudden change. A hot hand encircles her wrist and Gamora struggles. She raises her hand, striking down on her assailant’s wrist and twists away, sending an open-palm strike to their chest. She stumbles away from Proxima, hearing her older sister shout her name. 

She runs. 

-

She tells the other Guardians a few hours later. They leave the port immediately. 

-

Peter reports her sister’s appearance to the Nova Corps. Gamora doubts it will help. Proxima is just as wily as Nebula, if not more so. She could find her way out of whatever hole-in-the-wall prison she ended up in. Not to mention the team that Proxima associates with is one that has no problem blasting military personnel or civilians to stardust. 

For the next few months, they take up little jobs that Xandar sends their way. Even the Ravagers ask for their help on the rare occasion. Within the matter of weeks, as they search for new work, Rocket and Peter make contact with the Avengers. A team of assassins, scientists, and heroes that protects Terra. Gamora rolls her eyes at the thought. Terra is such a backwater planet, so late to the game. 

Nevertheless, Peter plans for a meeting six Terran months from now with three humans -- Tony, Steve, and T’challa. 

“Why are they making us wait so long?” Rocket asks, annoyance pronounced in his tone. 

Groot, who is now fully grown again, puts in his two units. 

“I am Groot.”

“I agree,” Drax says, nodding in Groot’s direction. He has been able to pick up on Groot’s intonations just as much as Rocket can. “They want to prepare. It’s a precaution.”

“You can’t really blame them,” Mantis says airily. “They’ve faced invasions before.” Even with those words, she gently pats Gamora’s hand in comfort. She knows the heavy burden Gamora carries, even if the others still don’t quite understand.

“Well, actually, they’re waiting for some guy named Thor,” Peter comments, pouring himself a glass of water from the cooler in the corner. “Lives on some other planet, I guess. He’s like one of the only non-Terrans on their team. Calls himself a god.”

Rocket lets out a burst of hissing laughter. “A god? What an idiot!”

Gamora’s head snaps up when she hears that name. “Thor? Thor Odinson?” 

Her teammates turn to her. 

“Yeah, you know him?” Peter asks, an eyebrow raised. 

“His brother… I was acquainted with him. Last I heard, his brother was imprisoned.”

“He’s the one who led the invasion, wasn’t he?” Mantis asks. 

Gamora nods. 

Even though they’re stepping in the right direction by contacting another protecting force, the conversation leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

-

The Guardians port in the Centauri system. Mantis and Peter want to discuss Yondu’s affiliation with their father. And the Ravagers happen to be taking a lucrative job in Yondu’s home system. Even before they get off the Milano, Mantis already feels the tension emanating from Gamora. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks. 

Gamora licks her lips. “Just a little tense.”

“It’s just Udonta,” Rocket murmurs. “How bad can this go?” 

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like he’s gonna blast us into space,” Rocket answers from his perch on Groot’s shoulder. 

Mantis ignores them, but stops Gamora right in mid-step. 

“If you need to,” she starts, “you can stay on the Milano. Peter and I will be quick.”

Gamora shakes her head. “I’m coming with you.”

Mantis smiles, warm and tentative. 

Gamora smiles back. 

-

It goes well. Yondu complains about their dad and Gamora jokingly insists that hers his worse. And for some unknown reason, Yondu takes them and his crew to an outdoor inn on one of the smaller colonies, where they only serve savory meat delicacies. Gamora samples a bit of everything before wandering away from the Guardians and Ravagers. 

She feels the tension dissipate, but it may be because the alcohol is making her head swim. Gamora sits down in the navy grass. She can still hear the lull of drumming music coming from the inn and the raucous laughter of her friends. 

_Friends._ The word still manages to unsettle her. 

Gamora hears the grass rustling, but instantly calms when Mantis places a hand on her shoulder. Mantis enjoys touch. From what Gamora has pieced together, Mantis had no real companions before joining them. No siblings that she grew up with, no friends, no lovers. She is still trying to navigate all of _this_. Gamora deeply understands that lost feeling. 

“What’s wrong?” Mantis asks again.

Gamora’s mouth runs dry. 

“Sometimes I miss them…” she trails off, “my siblings, but I worry about Nebula most.”

Mantis nods knowingly. 

“She was one of the youngest,” Gamora continues. “One of the youngest that survived the training and surgeries. Sometimes you remind me of her, just that you both lack experience with others...”

“That we were both sheltered by others,” Mantis supplies. 

“That you were both protected.”

-

They stay in the Centauri system for two galactic weeks, hopping planets and moons. Centaurians are hunting people, tribal by nature, and Peter reminds them all that Centaurians throw the best parties. They’re in the capitol city’s most popular bar one warm night, on Centauri IV, when the lights go out and she feels that hot hand on her wrist.

There’s screaming, people running. She can hear Rocket howling and hissing as he tries to climb Groot’s arm. She hears Drax’s bellow of surprise--

-

Gamora wakes up on the floor in a small room. The walls are painted dark and there’s a small bed pushed to the far side of the room. A table near the door holds a bowl of water and a few cloth towels. She climbs to her feet, stretching her limbs out as she stands. 

After looking around the room, Gamora notices that the atmosphere is different. It isn’t as heavy as before and she realizes quickly that she is no longer on Centauri IV. 

The door to the room opens briskly and then slams shut, startling Gamora. 

“Good you’re awake,” Nebula says as if nothing has happened. “You know you still drool in your sleep?”

Gamora hastily wipes at the corners of her mouth. 

Nebula gives a sort of stilted smile, like the cybernetics aren’t calibrated enough. 

“Oh that?” Nebula points to her own jaw, where Gamora’s gaze is trained. “I had run in with Proxima, a few weeks back, punched me so hard I nearly blacked out.” 

“She’s giving you problems, too?” Gamora asks, awkwardly. “She caught up to me in a bar several months ago… she was looking for you…”

“I know,” Nebula remarks. “I was there.” 

Gamora remembers that hot grasp on her wrist, blistering like a heated piece of metal pressed to her flesh. She looks down at her unmarred wrist before looking over at Nebula’s prosthetic. Or what is left of it.

There’s a stump of electrical wiring, where she or someone had tried to weld something to it. A three-pronged hand, which suspiciously looks like a trio of hooks, has warped itself around the stump. Nebula catches her glance and waves the appendage as if saying hello. 

“Some engineer tried giving me a new-fangled hand,” she explains. “I didn’t know until after, that he had his license revoked years ago. He’s not allowed to be practicing cybernetic medicine.”

“Where is he now?” asks Gamora.

“Dead,” Nebula says, simply. She moves inside the small room, depositing a satchel on the bed. She rummages inside with her organic hand, searching. The blue alien pulls out a piece of yellow, circular fruit and tosses it at Gamora. 

The older sister grabs the ripened fruit, taking a large bite of it. Sweet tart jelly fills her mouth and she slurps down the remains of it, yellow rind and black seeds as well. She sucks her fingers clean and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

Nebula sneers in disgust. “You still eat like a primitive beast, no doubt that Terran’s rubbing off on you.”

Gamora rolls her eyes. “Like you don’t eat like a monster.” 

Nebula stills, her back straightened and eyes narrowed to slits. Gamora purses her lips. She should know better. Monstrosities are a touchy subject with her baby sister. 

“Sorry,” Gamora says.

Nebula shakes her head. “Apologizing is a sign of weakness.”

“Then I must be weak,” she retorts, meeting her sister’s gaze. 

Nebula is the first to look away.

Silence. And then--

“Where are we?” Gamora asks. 

“Cargo freighter,” says Nebula. “Heading towards the great unknown.”

Gamora places her hands on her hips.

“My friends--”

“Back on Centauri IV, I guess.”

“I need to find them,” Gamora says and takes five small steps towards the door before Nebula slams her into the far side of the wall. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Nebula hisses behind clenched teeth. “I worked too hard to get us passage aboard this ship. You’re not going to derail any of this.”

Gamora feels the prosthetic grip her wrist, hot and unyielding. She pushes back against Nebula and punches her in the shoulder. 

Nebula stumbles, knocking against the opposite wall before staggering to her feet. 

“I need to find my friends, Nebula,” she says, “and you’re coming with me.”

Nebula narrows her eyes, flexing her good hand. 

“I’m not going anywhere with those--”

“Rocket can fix your hand,” Gamora interrupts her sister’s soon-to-be raging rant. “We’ve got the tech, all the equipment to make you a new one. Something that can help you.” 

“I don’t want your help,” Nebula sneers. 

“Then why did you knock me unconscious and drag me on some cargo ship?” 

Nebula opens her mouth once, closes it, opens it again--

“I can’t go back.”

Those four words shake Gamora. She doesn’t quite understand what Nebula means, but she gets the gist that this is about their fa-- Thanos. 

“Thanos?”

“ _Dad_ ,” Nebula says. 

“He is not our father,” Gamora remarks, her cheeks heating in frustration. “That _monster_ is not our father. When will you or any of the others see that? He took us, he killed our families, and--”

Nebula rushes to her, screaming in her face. “You think I don’t know that!”

“Sometimes I wonder!” Gamora shouts back. 

They jolt away from each other when a large fist bangs on the door. “Keep it down! People are working!”

They remain silent as footsteps recede. 

Gamora takes a deep breath. 

“I have found something -- something I want to share with you. I would love to share it with Proxima, but she is too far gone. But you aren’t, Nebula,” she says softly. “You and I can make something with the Guardians. We can protect. We can have a different purpose than destroying lives. We can save them.”

Nebula turns away, wrapping her arms around herself, rubbing the worn metal hooks against the fabric of her dark purple flight suit.

“Sister, you would make good friends with Mantis. And I’m sure you could get along with Rocket. He’s a bit abrasive, but he’s always there when you need someone. Drax takes some time to warm up to people, but that’s like you,” Gamora insists. 

“What about that Star-Lord?”

Gamora rolls her eyes. “He’s… he’s a handful, but still he’s a good person.” 

Nebula remains silent, until--

“I hate him,” she says. “I hate him, but I feel like he’s all we had for so long. And I mean... he had to have cared if he took us.”

Gamora wants to say something. She wants to tell Nebula that it doesn’t matter, that he abused their affections for him. That he used them. She wants to tell Nebula all of this, but Proxima’s words still echo in her ears. Still puts doubt in her heart. She can’t deny remembering how Thanos assigned them birthdays, to celebrate their lives. She can’t deny remembering how he celebrated a few holidays -- _yule yule yule_ hammers in her head. And she remembers the green skinned baby doll he got her one year. Those are the memories Proxima told her about. The ones she forced down deep inside her mind after Thanos instructed her to kill men over and over again for the control of cosmic relics. 

“I hate him too,” Gamora says. “That is why I cannot go back to Sanctuary.” She lies. She has to. If only to get Nebula away from Thanos and Proxima and all of them. “That is why you are coming with me.” 

Nebula looks up at her, narrowing her eyes. 

“We look out for one another, we protect one another,” she says. “That’s what we guardians do.” Gamora stretches out her left arm, palm up. _Take my hand this time._ “Come with me.” 

Slowly. 

Nebula places her hooks in Gamora’s palm. 

\- 

They get off at the next port. Heading to a communication room, Gamora has full intentions to send a message to the Milano. It takes the other Guardians three days to find them on the space station floating between Xandarian space and a no fly zone. 

Mantis is the first to embrace her. 

“We were so worried,” she says, “but I’m glad you found your sister.” 

“We’re taking her?” Rocket asks, abrasive as ever. 

“I am Groot!” 

“Yeah, yeah, we all get it. Nebula is joining,” Peter says. “Now can we get some grub before we head back out. Some priestess needs our help, and I’ll be damned if I show up to her place on an empty stomach.” 

“A priestess?” Gamora asks. 

“Quill wants to save some damsel,” Rocket fills her as they walk. 

Gamora is deeply aware of Nebula hanging back, but Mantis has flitted towards Nebula. Keeping a watchful gaze, one which Gamora is very grateful for. 

\- 

Five weeks later and Nebula adjusts. She’s still standoffish, but Gamora notices how she hovers near Drax. The two spend a lot of time sharpening and cleaning their weapons together, listening to Peter’s Terran music. Mantis invites Nebula out when they port, but Nebula only ever goes if Gamora comes with. 

Gamora leaves early one day, wanting to turn in early. They’ll be leaving to head to Terra soon. It will be a long mission, but the six months are nearly finished. Thor Odinson will be back soon. 

Several minutes later, as she’s getting settled into her bunk, Nebula wanders in. A silk drawstring bag held in her new prosthetic courtesy of Rocket, and under her other arm is a square board. 

“Want to play?” asks Nebula. 

Gamora smiles. 


End file.
